


When Killing is More Profitable than Stealing

by Jetainia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Thieves and Assassins AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 16:53:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19772449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jetainia/pseuds/Jetainia
Summary: The heads of the Shadows and the Thieves Guild share a bottle of wine.





	When Killing is More Profitable than Stealing

There was a small  _ whoosh _ of air followed by the satisfying  _ thunk _ of an arrow hitting its intended target. The arrow quivered where it struck, surrounded by others of its kind that had hit the target with the same precision. A perfect cluster of arrows perforated the dummy, testament to the shooter’s accuracy.

Helga nodded in satisfaction before walking over to collect her arrows and inspect them for any damage that would make them no longer usable. Two had warped shafts and a third left its head in the dummy as she pulled it out. Slow claps drew her attention away from the arrows and to the patch of shadows to her right.

The only reason the man stepping out of the shadows didn’t die on the spot was because she knew who he was and was always somewhat expecting him to show up. Only the lower half of his face was visible with the hooded cloak he wore and she could see the grin that curved on his mouth and knew his dark eyes would be sparkling with mirth. Helga huffed with slight exasperation that was almost drowned out by fondness. 

“You’re going to get yourself killed one of these times, you know,” she said as she placed the reusable arrows back in her side quiver.

Salazar—for that was who the man was—merely grinned and spread out his hands in a gesture. “What kind of a thief would I be if I couldn’t make my way through a place without being seen?”

“A dead one. Especially if the place you’re sneaking through is this one.”

“Precisely.”

“Come on then, you may as well have some wine after all that effort of creeping into places you shouldn’t.”

Salazar followed her happily enough as she led them away from the training room and to her quarters. Her assassins paid no attention to the cloaked figure trailing her footsteps—hooded figures were rarely something to be concerned about in their headquarters and Helga was often accompanied by one. 

Her quarters were separated from the others by a curved staircase filled with various death traps and hidden levers. Ostensibly, that was the only entrance and exit to them. In truth, there were in excess of twelve different ways to and from the rooms of the leader of the Shadows. One of these led to the wine cellar; another led to the Thieves Guild but was often disused due to Salazar’s love of a challenge.

Helga left Salazar poking at her shelves (unconcerned of him stealing anything as even if he did, it would only end up in his own quarters and she had full access to those) and headed down into the cellar. Alphonse Hunter-Field had added a crate of wine with the payment for his last contract and Helga fully intended to share a bottle with Salazar (and maybe rub it in that the wine was a new variety his thieves hadn’t yet been able to steal).

When she returned, Salazar was rolling a wooden coin-shaped object over his fingers and she huffed as she plucked the marker from him. “Unless you’re planning on using my services, you have no need for that.”

Salazar shrugged. “I’m a thief, I’m attracted to valuable things.”

“You’re also rather attracted to your continued existence, no matter how careless you are with it.”

Salazar conceded the point and pulled out another marker from one of his many pockets to play with as Helga studiously ignored him and poured the wine. His movements paused as he registered just  _ what _ she was pouring.

“That wouldn’t happen to be Hunter-Field’s latest brew, would it?” he asked carefully, the tell-tale twitching of his fingers showing Helga how much he wanted the wine.

She smirked at him. “Sometimes killing can be more profitable than stealing, wouldn’t you agree?”

Salazar scowled but soon stopped as she handed the bottle over to him for inspection. The argument of which of their respective operations was more successful was an old one, able to be picked up and dropped whenever they decided, and Salazar had decided that the bottle he held was far more important than a comfortable, well-worn argument.

“He hasn’t even started selling this yet and he just gave it to you?”

Helga shrugged slightly as she sat down and sipped her wine. “He was very grateful to be rid of the scout one of his competitors had sent in.”

“And you were, of course, very happy to accept a little extra for the job,” Salazar returned with a wry smile, placing the wine bottle down on the small table between them.

“Obviously. So long as they meet the price, I don’t care what they pay and if they want to give me more, I’ll accept more. I am running a business, after all.”

Salazar merely hummed and drank the wine she had poured for him. His eyes fluttered shut as he took in the flavours of the blend and ascertained whether or not he liked it. Helga watched him curiously; she, herself, quite enjoyed the taste of Hunter-Field’s latest invention but it was far nicer to be able to enjoy it with Salazar.

Eventually the thief nodded and opened his eyes. “Acceptable,” he said, which meant that it was one of the best wines he had ever tasted.

“I’m glad.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the wine and each other’s company. There’d be business talk eventually; there always was when they were together even if it was merely complaining about their various agents. For now however, it was silent as they sipped their wine and twined their fingers together.

They had met when both had been in the same house for different jobs. Helga had been hired to assassinate the first-born son while Salazar was in search of an amulet the same boy had decided was his one day and had taken from the proper owner. It had been decided that it would be simpler to help each other than oppose the other and their working relationship had begun. 

The Shadows and the Thieves Guild remained separate organisations, but it wasn’t uncommon for teams of assassin and thief to form during jobs. After all, if it had worked for their leaders, why shouldn’t it work for them? 

A slight rattle from the other side of the room caused Helga to stand up and Salazar to watch in vague interest. A capsule with etchings of Pluto on it rested in the small niche of stone, signifying a new contract had been made and needed to be delegated.

Helga rose an eyebrow as she read it, walking back over to the table and Salazar. “Have anyone setting out for the Underhill Mansion?” she asked without really expecting an affirmative response.

“I do, actually. There’s a ring that needs to be planted there. Shall we join forces?”

“I think Anders and Sheraz would make a rather good team. Do you agree?”

Salazar lifted his cup and clinked it with Helga’s. “It’s a plan.”

They remained seated for a few moments longer, torchlight flickering off the pendants they each wore of the other’s patron god. Only when their cups had been drained did they stand up and get to work—Salazar for once using the passage that lead to his guild as Helga went downstairs to collect Anders.

The work of thieves and assassins was never over, especially not for the leaders of such groups.


End file.
